Officer Krupke
by FictionHobbit
Summary: After the Trial the boys let off steam in Tibby's


Officer Krupke~~ Newsies style... at Tibby's after the trial...  
  
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. Lyrics are from West Side Story   
  
Blink sat down heavily, his eye still purple from where the cop beat him over the head... how his eye got effected, he still didn't know. "Ya see. Da Bulls believe ev'ything dey read in da papes," he growled defeatedly. Everyone murmured their agreement.   
  
Dutchy stood, a knockwurst still on his fork. "Ta dem we ain't human. We'se cruddy juvenile delinquents. So dat's whatwe give 'em!" he nodded to emphasize his point. Having the attention of all the newsboys, Dutchy remained standing.  
  
Blink stood, taking on an air of superiority. Deepening his voice to sound like the arresting officer, Officer Krupke, he slapped Dutchy on the back "Hey, you".   
  
"Me, Officah?" Dutchy asked innocently, a smirk curling his lip.  
  
Blink pulled Dutchy to his feet, a fist holding his shirt "Yeh you. Gimme one good for not draggin' you down ta da station house, ya punk!"   
  
Music sounded from out of no where. Shrugging his shoulders, Dutchy just went with it, standing up in a chair and started kicking his feet, dancing around.   
  
"Dear kindly Sergeant Krupke,  
You gotta understand,  
It's just our bringing up-ke  
That get us out of hand.  
Our mothers all are junkies,  
Our fathers all are drunks,  
Golly Moses, natcherly we're punks!"   
  
As he finished his first burst of song, the others stood on their chairs, joining him in the song and dance. Dutchy was joined in the singing by Bumlets, Snoddy, and Boots.  
  
"Gee. Officer Krupke, we're very upset;  
We never had the love that every child oughta get  
We ain't no delinquents,  
We're misunderstood,  
Deep down inside us there is good!"  
  
Dutchy jumped up onto a table hollering "Dere is good!"  
  
This time all the newsies joined in, hands behind their heads, high kicking  
  
"There is good, there is good,  
There's an tapped good,  
Like inside, the worst of us is good."  
  
"Dat's a touchin' good story!" Blink interupted the singing, taking on the air of the officer again.   
  
"Lemme tell it ta da woild!" Dutchy exclaimed, returning to the top of the bar he had been dancing on.  
  
Blink shook his fist "Just tell it ta da judge!".   
  
Dutchy knelt on one knee before Snoddy, clasping his hands and sang out  
  
"Dear kindly Judge, your Honor,  
My parents treat me rough,  
With all the marijuana,  
They won't give me a puff.  
They didn't wanna have me,  
But somehow I was had.  
Leapin' lizards, that's why I'm so bad!"  
  
After fighting back his laughter successfully, Snoddy joined in the singing  
  
"Officer Krupke, you're really a square;  
This boy don't need a judge, he needs an  
analyst's care!  
It's just his neurosis that oughta be coirbed.  
He's psychologic'ly distoibed!"  
  
Dutchy leaped back onto the bar, spinning for a second before hollering "I'm distoibed!"  
  
Again all the newsies took up the song, high kicking and spinning around with their hands behind their head  
  
"We're disturbed. we're distoibed,  
We're the most distoibed,  
Like we're psychologic'ly distoibed"  
  
Snoddy stood on the bar now, having pushed Dutchy to the floor and sang loudly  
  
"In the opinion of this court, this child is   
depraved on account  
he ain't had a normal home."  
  
Dutchy got to his feet and replied "Hey. I'm depraved on accounta I'm deprived!"  
  
Snoddy joined Dutchy on the floor again, an arm around his shoulders "So take him to a head shrinker".  
  
Dutchy looked around for a second before noticing Bumlets watching on the fringe of the crowd. Smiling to himself, he tapped Bumlets' shoulder and sang loudly   
  
"My father is a bastard,  
My ma's an S.O.B.  
My grandpa's always plastered,  
My grandma pushes tea,  
My sister wears a mustache,  
My brother wears a dress,  
Goodness gracious, that's why I'm a mess!"  
  
Bumlet's jumped up, getting in Blink's face, grinning  
  
"Yes!  
Officer Krupke, you're really a slob.  
This boy don't need a doctor, just a good honest job.  
Society's played him a terrible trick,  
"Und" sociogic'ly he's sick!"  
  
Dutchy was lifted into the air, hollering "I AM SICK!"  
  
The rest of theroom got up again, high kicking and spinning  
  
"We are sick, we are sick,  
We are sick sick sick,  
Like we're sociologically sick!"  
  
Bumlets stood on the bar, assuming the psychiatrist's pose again  
  
"In my opinion this child don't need to have   
his head shrunk at all.  
Juvenile delinquency is purely a social disease!"  
  
Laughing, Dutchy said, his voice cracking "HEY! I got a social disease!"  
  
"So take 'im to a social woikah!" the "psychiatrist" suggested.  
  
Dutchy ran over to Boots and started singing loudly again   
  
"Dear kindly social woikah.  
They say go earn a buck,  
Like be a soda joikah,  
Which means like be a schmuck.  
It's not I'm anti-social,  
I'm only anti-woik,  
Glory Osky, that's why I'm a joik!"  
  
Taking his voice a few octaves higher than normal, Boots joined in  
  
"Eek!  
Officer Krupke, you've done it again.  
This boy don't need a job, he needs a year in the pen.  
It ain't just a question of misunderstood;  
Deep down inside him, he's no good!"  
  
Dutchy nodded "I'M NO GOOD!"  
  
The room chorused together again  
  
"We're no good, we're no good,  
We're no earthly good,  
Like the best of us is no damn good"  
  
Snoddy leapt onto the bar, arms out wide  
  
"The trouble is he's crazy!"  
  
Bumlets jumped up beside him, immitating his stance  
  
"The trouble is he drinks!"  
  
Boots was soon besiude them, still talking like a woman  
  
"The trouble is he's lazy!"  
  
Snoddy, held his nose nad Dutchy's arm in the air  
  
"The trouble is he stinks!"  
  
Bumlets shook his heead emphatically  
  
"The trouble is he's growing!"  
  
Boots interupted him  
  
"The trouble is he's grown!"  
  
As the song wound to a close all the newsboys in Tibby's linked arms and high kicked as if they were a chorus line  
  
"Krupke. we got troubles of our own!  
Gee, Officer Krupke,  
We're down on our knees,  
'Cause no one wants a fella with a social disease.  
Gee, Officer Krupke,  
What are we to do!  
Gee, Officer Krupke,  
Krup you!" 


End file.
